


There's Really No Comparison

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [15]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Break Up and Make Up, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Meet-Cute, Time Shifting, bughead - Freeform, pre slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 00:04:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15279168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: Glimpses into Betty's relationships.(50% with Jughead)





	There's Really No Comparison

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoy!

Betty can't help but blush whenever she catches sight of her appearance in the large mirror hanging on the wall above the fireplace. She's the modest type, that's been drilled into her since childhood, but the hairdresser has done a fantastic job. Veronica had treated her to a day of luxury and she'd certainly delivered; new clothes, new shoes, stronger makeup and blonde highlights in her already golden hair- it made her look more vibrant, more colourful in a way that Veronica had deemed 'definitely Betty-esque'.

The Betty in question definitely agreed. 

She smoothed down the silk skirt in Tristan's apartment and tightened her ponytail. Her hair was softer than she'd ever had it, and she felt a little grateful that Veronica had supremely decided to buy her all the shampoos and conditioners. She could imagine the feel of Tristan's hands sliding through the strands, of the way he'd breathe into her neck-

The door opened and Tristan walked in. He was a picture of fatigue and stress and Betty was immediately concerned. "Hey," she murmured, rushing towards him, her skirt swaying with her motions, as she cradled his face in her hands. Thoughts of her appearance long forgotten in the wake of his downtrodden mood. "Are you okay? What's happened?" 

"I'm fine, babe," he shook his head, the movement sliding her fingers across his cheeks "just so much shit's gone down with Cathy. I'm not sure how much more of it I can take." 

An idea blossomed fiercely inside her, and she tweaked his nose. "How about I make you your favourite dinner, and we can come up with a game plan?" 

He smiled at her, eyes crinkling, "you are a ray of sunshine, Lizzie," 

Betty's smile was heartfelt and genuine. 

 

* * * 

 

Betty heard the latch of the door opening and hurried to finish up the rest of her lipstick before dashing out of the bedroom. Jughead was rifling through the cabinets in the kitchen, long body stretched out as he reached for the cookies on the top shelf. She took the moment his back was turned to straighten her new satin blouse and rearrange the belt on her jeans. She and Veronica had gone on a shopping spree with the bonus Betty had received from work- a rare splurge for the money squirreller she was at heart- but she didn't regret it. The clothes fit her all perfectly and she'd been turning heads on the way home. 

Veronica had whistled back to the catcalls with an alluring wink, and Betty had burned with pleasure beside her. 

But she didn't really care about muscular builders; she had a boyfriend she wanted to impress. "Hey Juggie," she said softly, and he turned, nodding upon seeing her; mouth full. 

"HyBfts," he managed, completely garbled, and set about chewing rather energetically through the remainder of his mouthful. He shrugged off his jacket, laying it on the kitchen counter and shaking out his limbs. Once he swallowed, he took in a big gulp of air, and shot her a grin. "I meant- Hey Betts, radiant love of my life, how was your day?" 

Betty attempted to manoeuvre herself more attractively against the door frame, resting her elbow faux-casually against it to rest her head. "Oh you know, same old. V and I went shopping." 

"Oh yeah?" Her boyfriend hummed, reaching across the small apartment for a blank canvas. He tugged it up onto his easel and set about rifling through the grey couch cushions for his paintbrush. "That sounds fun. You told her hi for her from me?" 

"Mmhm," The blonde frowned, glancing down at herself and further straightening the blouse as Jughead nearly stuck his face into the sofa before emerging from his pillowed cave adventure with a thickly bristled brush. "What about you? How was the museum?" 

"Good, good," he nodded, kicking off his shoes and padding across the white, rustic looking wooden floors to fetch his colour pallet. He began tugging paint bottles out of the cupboard and squeezing out large blobs with a squelching sound. "They were super receptive, I think they're probably the ones I'll go for in terms of the blue exhibit. They have a great floor space and they're ready to give me complete artistic direction in terms of placement. It sets them apart, really. Plus the curator was a personal fan; her name was Toni - she said she even owned one of my earlier pieces- the Motorbike outside the Diner, not sure if I believe her, but if anyone's telling the truth..." he shrugged, and Betty watched as he set the bottles back into their place. He lifted his palette into his left hand, and twirled the paintbrush between his fingers as he returned to the canvas.

This was a familiar scene. Watching Jughead paint was something she could do for hours, so she went to get her laptop and drew up a chair. She'd do some work and watch him paint. He inspired her articles, and he looked particularly appealing as he painted and focused. As soon as she geared her laptop up and typed in her password, the strokes of bristles on rough paper stopped, and she looked up to see Jughead looking down at her. There was already paint smudged against his cheek; bright green and distracting, and he was staring at her. "Hey?" She grinned, and he cocked his head. 

"You okay?"

Her shoulders slumped, and she gave him a guilty nod. "Yeah, no, it's silly really." She gestured to her outfit, and he seemed to take it in for the first time. "I just...new stuff, new hair, I thought..."

"Betty," Jughead laughed with delight, kneeling before her and reaching over to smear some red onto her nose "I am never going to notice you in new clothes. I am most likely not going to notice new hair. You are always the most beautiful woman in any room, I don't think it would matter if you hadn't washed your hair for weeks and were dressed in nothing but old rags." 

She blushed, eyes fixed on her keyboard, when he reached out with a tissue and wiped the paint from her nose. 

"Acrylic." He gave her a lopsided grin "an irritant. Wouldn't wanna ruin that sublime face. Or what else am I gonna base my next exhibit on?" 

Her eyes widened, and she laughed in disbelief. "No way!"

He gestured to the canvas that had a few base strokes on it. "What do you think that's gonna be?" 

 

* * * 

 

"C'mon," Tristan grinned, swinging his arm over hers as they waited in line to order. "McDonald's on a second date? It's pretty lit if you ask me." 

"Definitely," Betty laughed, nuzzling into his chest. "I am so having a Happy Meal."

He groaned with anticipation "I completely forgot about Happy Meals! Let's get two, and if you get a better toy than me then I'm definitely stealing it. Chivalry can be damned." 

"How ever did I get so lucky?" Betty teased. When they got to the front of the queue they ordered two Happy Meals and found themselves a table in the corner. After digging through their boxes, Betty triumphantly pulled out a Mulan action figure and thrust it in Tristan's face. "Top that." She demanded, popping a chicken nugget into her mouth and he laughed unabashedly at her before pulling out his own toy. 

Mushu in his cotton and wool form danced a jig merrily under Tristan's command and they met each other's eyes. 

"Swap?" They asked in unison, and Betty grinned, snatching the dragon and tucking him into her pocket. She watched as Tristan threw a fry into the air and caught it between his teeth; winking at her, so she attempted to do the same thing, only for the fry to hit her into the eye and the grease to sting in an unholy way. 

It was worth it though, she thought, as she looked blearily through her reddened eye ball, to see Tristan throw up his milkshake with laughter.

They were thrown out rather promptly after that. 

 

* * * 

 

The sun simmered against Betty's skin as she lay on the picnic blanket, face turned up towards the sky. The grass was soft under her legs and she could see two butterflies flying playfully around each other beside a rose bush; blue and yellow as they tripped on petals and leaves. She casually swiped her fingers through an abandoned cobweb so they could continue their unusual courtship without fear of being trapped. 

As she brought her attention back to Jughead; who was still unloading sandwiches from the large basket and murmuring what they were under his breath. She tuned him back in with a bewildered simper. "...ham and turkey on rye, cheese on white, stuffing and chicken, egg and sausage, bacon and tunafish on brown-"

"How  _many_ sandwiches did you actually make?!" She exclaimed eventually, eyes wide and Jughead shot her a smug look. 

"I take my sandwich eating very seriously, Betty," he said with faux-gravity "if you can't treat food with the same gravitas then we're going to have a problem." 

She rolled her eyes, shoving him gently before scooping up a ham and turkey roll. She took a vicious bite and chirped through a full mouth; "Oh, I think I can keep up." 

His answering smile was radiant and heartfelt, and he leaned over to kiss her cheek. "I have no doubt." 

They spent the rest of the afternoon gorging themselves on homemade sandwiches and comparing recipes, before collapsing side by side on the red and white cheques; looking up at the clouds and uncomfortably full. It was nice, for a second date, Betty thought to herself. Comfortable but with all the awkwardness of budding flirtation. Just as she was about to drift off for a light snooze under the clouds, Jughead's hand found hers. 

She took a shaky breath; threading their fingers, and then letting the sun shine onto her closed lids. 

 

* * * 

 

"You off again?" Tristan asked, hands moving quickly across his laptop as he drafted another email towards Cathy about the take over. 

Betty nodded, zipping up her raincoat and shrugging her satchel over her shoulders. "Yeah. I've got so many new leads on this case. I won't be back till late, alright?" She pressed a kiss to his cheek and he nodded; eyes never straying from the screen. "Don't wait up."

"Stay safe!" He called, and she faltered in her footsteps towards the door, racing back to give him a hug from behind. 

"I love you," she murmured into the back of his neck, and he laughed in unexpected pleasure. 

"I love you too, Liz. Now go and give 'em hell," 

 

* * * 

 

"What the  _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" Jughead hissed, and Betty jumped with fright on her way to the door. She turned to see Jughead step out of the shadows of his apartment; he was still in his pyjamas and his hair was a fluffy mess. He must have snuck out of bed whilst she'd been getting her stuff together. She squared her shoulders and steeled herself; flashlight tight in her grip. 

"I am going out to chase a lead." She said matter-of-factly, trying to relax the beating of her heart. 

She winced as he dragged his hands through his hair in pure frustration. There was anger written into every line of his body, and hints of betrayal etched into his shadow. She'd lied to him, that much she knew. She'd promised she wouldn't go out tonight, and here she was, dressed and prepped and inches from the door. "Let me get this straight," he began in a deep, dangerous voice "you're going to go out, after you promised you wouldn't, you're going to track down a  _known_ murderer on your own- with no weapons and no one knowing where you are? Is that about right? Have I interpreted everything correctly? Aren't you supposed to be smart?" He threw his hands up into the air in dismay "Jesus, Betty! Don't you  _think?"_

She glared at him; eyes hard and feelings hurt. "I'm the only person in this city that does think. I'm the only one who has a lead into who this killer is! I could save lives, and if I have to-"

"-risk your own?-" he challenged viciously, and she cringed at the words. 

"If I have to be... _brave_ then yes, I'm going to do it." 

He scoffed loudly, and her cheeks burnt with humiliation. "This isn't bravery, Betty. There's a thin line between bravery and stupidity and if I were you, I'd be watching where I tread a bit more closely. I can't believe you-"

"You don't control me, Jughead!" She managed, spluttering the words out. "If I want to go out, I can-"

"And get hurt?"

"I won't get hurt-"

He marched up to her with assured movements and reached for her arm. Before she could wrench it away he hauled the sleeve up, his movements forceful but surprisingly gentle, and he ran his finger tips lightly over the bruise. His eyes were challenging her in the gleam of moonlight, and she tugged her arm away, shoving her sleeve back down. She met his eyes with cool defiance, and he closed his own in anguished defeat. The look on his face pained Betty, and she watched him with conflicted concern and anger as he rested their foreheads together. His skin was clammy with sweat, his eyes still dark with sleep. "Betty, please don't go out tonight. I'm not sure I can bear it." His voice broke slightly, hitching on the b and she withdrew from him. 

"Jughead, I..." she stepped towards the door, and he drew in a shaky, reluctant breath. 

He didn't move towards her though, staying where he was, head still bowed. "Betty," he whispered her name like a caress, "I hate ultimatums, but I'm about to give you one now. You walk out that door, you keep jeopardising yourself and your life, I won't...you can't come back. Alright?"  

Her lips parted in surprise before she could stop herself, but then she blinked back tears and headed for the door. 

The soft click of it shutting behind her brought with it a sense of doom and finality, and every step she took away from the apartment and the artist she loved within it; the more she regretted her decision, and the less it seemed that she could go back. 

 

* * * 

 

"I can't believe I dumped him," Betty groaned, slumping her head against her countertop. Veronica patted her back consolingly, pouring her another shot. Betty pushed herself up, words slurring in her head "He was perfect, V. Actually perfect." 

"He wasn't perfect, B," Veronica soothed, swaying slightly herself as she tossed back another vodka. Katy Perry was playing on their iPod speakers, and Betty's apartment was beaming positivity out of every pore and she still felt awful. "Otherwise you wouldn't have cut him loose. Brighten up! You got bored, that's natural. That's life!" 

"I got bored of perfect," Betty scoffed at herself, "what's wrong with me? No seriously, dumping Tristan has to be the dumbest thing I've ever done." Tears started welling up, and she clutched Mushu to her chest. "Do you think he'd take me back?" Her fingers inched towards her phone.

Veronica gasped loudly, hiccuping as she waggled a finger sternly in Betty's face. "No, Betty! It doesn't matter how perfect he is in your memories, you weren't happy. You. Weren't. Happy. End of! Now, do you still have that sing along Camp Rock DVD?" 

 

* * *  

 

"These are good." Veronica murmured, twirling her wine glass gently. "And you know I normally despise modern art. He's good, this..." her eyes squinted at the bottom of the painting of a man. It was hyperrealistic; black and white, the profile of a stubbled male with bottles of alcohol in the background. "Jughead?" She arched a delicate eyebrow, "these artsy types." 

Betty laughed quietly, eyes taking in every inch of the paintings. It looked like a photo it was so good, and she wondered who the figure was. "Maybe that's how you make it in the art world." She was having a wonderful time. In fact, the past few months with Veronica had been good. She felt, finally, like she was okay, happen even without Tristan. And here, in a lovely pink dress at a high class event with her best friend, Betty wasn't sure life could get much better.

"Uh, excuse me?" A man came up to them, and Betty looked up in surprise. He was very tall and broad, with tanned skin and big eyes. "Sorry, my idiotic friend doesn't have the balls to come up to you," he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, "but he's been staring at you all night. It's creepy. Like a stalker." His voice was cheery and Betty warmed to him instantly.

Veronica laughed, and hooked her arm through Betty's. "B; attracting admirers wherever you go. Where is this mystery man, pray tell?"

The man stepped to the side and Betty followed the gap to see dark hair and a wry smile; a man all long lines and a navy blue suit; hands in his pockets and collar open. She immediately wanted to fix her hair but resisted the urge to do so, tightening her own hold on Veronica. "C'mon Jug," the man called, and the blue-suited individual grimaced and shot his friend a death glare before coming over. 

"Wait, 'Jug' as in Jughead?" Veronica verified, and the artist nodded as he reached them. 

"Yeah, hi, ignore everything Sweet Pea said please," Jughead greeted, offering his hand to Veronica and then more slowly to Betty. There was a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks. Betty could feel her own face heating up in response. "Would you uh..."

"Like a refill?" SweetPea prompted more smoothly, and Betty watched as Jughead shot him a grateful look. Old friendly then, clearly. The girls offered their glasses, watching as the two guys headed back over to the bar. As soon as they were out of earshot, they turned to each other in unison. 

Before Betty could speak, Veronica began; "I think you should go for it, Betty. Hear me out, he's handsome, talented, and has none of that accountancy-stability that Tristan had. He's an  _artist._ That means passion and unpredictability and that's what you need." 

Betty blinked in surprise, any tiny protests she'd had leaving her head and she nodded eagerly. "Alright, yeah. Let's do it."

* * * 

 

It's raining; really really hard. There's water everywhere, there's blood everywhere, there's  _police_ everywhere. She can barely understand what's happening, but Jughead is there, Jughead is there with the police and a blanket and strong arms, and Betty's shaking. 

"I'm sorry," she's whispering, teeth chattering, as Jughead holds her together. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"

His voice is calm, but his arms are tight as a vice. "Don't be sorry," he whispers into her hair "you just caught a murderer." 

She wants to say she hasn't, she wants to say he was right and she was stupid to come here alone. She wants to say she's sorry she walked out of his apartment, and that she ignored his texts. She wants to say that she wishes she hadn't been so reserved with him- so scared that what happened with Tristan would happen with Jughead, she wants to say a thousand things, but instead, she catches his lips in a wet kiss. 

"You caught a murderer," he repeats, and everything else; the sirens, the rain, the rev of a dozen motors fades away. "You just caught a murderer, Betty Cooper," 

She starts crying, but it's not all sadness- she realises then and there that she loves him more than she's ever loved anyone. "I caught a murderer," she repeats; slightly more shakily. "I caught a murderer." 

 

* * * 

 

"So," Jughead grins, lifting up another full box and setting it in the 'done' pile. "You're a bit of a hoarder, aren't you? What's the point of upsizing if we're going to be living in the same cramped conditions?" 

Betty curls her arm around her protruding stomach and laughs, digging into her second plateful of chicken. She's been craving like mad lately, and she watches as Jughead packs up her apartment for her. "I am not a hoarder, I'm just...sentimental." She watches the way he throws his head back and laughs, and she admires the glint of her engagement ring. With any luck the baby can be part of the ceremony. The baby.  _Their baby._ As they move to  _their_ new house. 

"Oh yeah?" Jughead laughs freely, lifting up a small toy dragon and waving it at her. "Can I throw this away? Or is it sentimental too?" 

Betty swallows hard as she sees the Mushu. She's had it for so many years now, she...she isn't...

"Sentimentality once," she answers in a soft voice "but long gone. Junk pile." The words are hard to come out, but once they're in the air, she doesn't try to take them back.

She watches as Jughead tosses it easily, and then he's going through her sweaters one by one. 

It a hard truth, but a real one. That Tristan will always have a place in her heart- and a large place too, but the fact of the matter is-

Jughead owns her heart.

And that's all there is to it, really. 

She stabs another piece of chicken with her fork and feels oddly triumphant. 

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments/prompts/ideas are always life to me guys you have no idea! 
> 
> Take my love mwah mwah xx


End file.
